Killer
by vampymistress
Summary: "Killer" is the sequel to "Beast". Raven has Quinn in her clutches, but Quinn's heart still yearns for Rachel, who literally has no idea she exists. What's a girl to do when she's lost her love?
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Ink to the paper,

pen to the hand

writing words

to make her understand.

Words are danger

words prove a liar

words can be deadly

and set the world on fire.

I loved her

and she loved me

and because of my love

I set her free.

Sleep brings no peace

blood sates no thirst

anything that 'helps'

only makes it worse.

Treated like a prisoner

presented like a Queen -

what a horrifying

and saddening scene.

Only one way

to escape the kingdom.

Only one way

to gain my freedom."

Trying to push someone out of your heart is never an easy task. Trying to push someone out of your heart while someone else is forcing their way in is dangerous. Especially when the person pushing in has complete and utter control over you. You are a helpless prisoner and your mind can't help but wander to back before this happened. Things weren't easy, but they were great. You had a reason to wake up in the mornings, a reason to be the best you could be. You had a reason to fight.

I had lost my reason.

Losing Rachel had been like losing my soul and feeling my body split in half. I had had to keep the tears buried inside because the powers that be would make my existance an even more despicable one. She was already punishing me for several centuries of disobedience. 'Tough love' she called it. The house she had was more manor than house with its spacious rooms and acres of land. She had winding staircases and a kitchen that would make contestants on Hell's Kitchen weep. She had knocked down several walls to make a million dollar soundproof game room for that hellion of hers, and had plans to build a miniscule skate park.

I rarely got to see any of this. Because of my misbehaviour, my quarters were in the basement. Perhaps she expected Stockholm Syndrome to work on vampires because there were no windows, and every good kidnapper knows that if you withold vitamin D from your victim, their judgement gets clouded. The only things I had to go by were lights. To pass the time, I took up writing.

At first, I wrote letters to Rachel. I wrote hundreds of them explaining who I was, what happened between us, and why I did what I did. Then poetry became my escape. It was easy to empathize with the singers - or screamers, rather - of the music Serena was inclined to listen to. I wrote my heart out and felt proud of the things no other eyes could ever behold. The basement was made of stone, and I hid my work behind a few loose ones.

She visited me each night - at least, I assumed it was night time - and tried to get me to open up to her. She would kiss me, press her lips against my weak spots, and gauge my reaction. Sometimes, it was easy to pretend she was Rachel and respond to her touch. But then she would speak, and the illusion would be broken. She sometimes flew into a rage, throwing things and screaming at me and bursting into tears. I felt bad for her, honestly. My heart yearned to care for her. She couldn't open herself up to anyone else because she would always love me. It would be up to me to comfort her.

Sometimes, Serena would visit me. I was certain she was a spawn of the devil, sent straight from Hades himself. She was a new vampire, and due to all the human blood in her body, she was much stronger than I was. Her first night visiting me, she told me she hated me and wished she could kill me simply because of "all the pain you've caused my mother". In all my years, I've never seen a kid so fiercely devoted to their mother. I couldn't stop her when she attacked me, no matter how much it would please me to tear that head of pink hair from its body.

I miss Rachel, a lot. Awake or asleep, she constantly preoccupies my thoughts. But even though I don't know what she's doing with her life, I can assure you that it's great because she's Rachel Berry. And I love her.

And nothing could change that.

Tell me what you want, what you really really want.

• Some of you were saying before that Santana shouldn't actually be dead, and neither should Sebastian. Should I bring them back?

• Which Glee characters do you guys want in here that aren't present? So far, I know Blaine, Brittany, and Jake haven't been included yet.

• Who's this Ryder kid that I keep hearing about? (Because of the lightning strike, I have no tv at home, so I only know about Glee happenings when I read fanfics or get updates from friends.)

• Which character should get more screen time?

• I'm not too certain if I'll be adding any more OCs, because that would be one hell of a complicated storyline. But I do want to have you guys be way more involved in this one.

• And no, I won't be making a spin-off called "Letters to Rachel". Tempting, but I have no time.


	2. Let's Kill Tonight

A/N: Sorry for the late update. I've been pretty busy and have had quite the writer's block.

Chapter 1: Let's Kill Tonight

One Year Later • Rachel

Finally.

As I emerge from the airport and step onto the busy New York streets, I cannot help but smile as it hits me. Through trials and tribulations, botched auditions and amnesia, the loss of friends and time, I have managed to gain entrance to NYADA, the college of my dreams. Everything I have ever done has prepared me for this moment. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that "all the world's a stage", and my life is the ultimate performance. Every thing that I can remember has given me experience that I can use on the stage of my world. At any moment in time, I could be given a role of someone whose boyfriend - along with several other friends - died in a car accident, who woke up one morning unable to remember several months of life and had to undergo twice the amount of schooling in order to graduate on time, or whose remaining friends all joined a cult.

At least, that is how it appears to me. For the last year, Tina, Sam, Artie, and Mike all have acted strangely when around me. I had caught them throwing pitying glances my way, or stopping abruptly in the middle of a sentence. They can rarely hangout with me after school because they rush off together as soon as the bell rings. Whatever cult they're in has them on some sort of diet because ever since the Incident, I'd never seen them eat much of anything. Even at graduation, they barely touched the long tables of food. Brittany is the one constant. For a time, she was incredibly depressed at the loss of Santana, but she had become more of her usual self during these last few months.

However, my old life is over. I can't dwell on the past. No longer am I Rachel Berry, Ohio's resident drama Queen.

After hopping into a cab, I make my way to the train station which will take me up to the NYADA campus, bejeweled pink rolling backpack in hand. The rest of my belongings have been sent to my dorm room prior to my arrival. Once on the train, I stand for the entire ride rather than sit. The seats are filthy, and Heaven knows what I could catch. It amazes me, even in New York, how little people think of hygine and keeping their bodies in the best shape possible.

The train comes to a stop and I get off, try not to shove anyone, and walk the two blocks that leads me to my future. The campus is thrice as large as McKinley was, and I know I have made the right choice as my eyes dart back and forth, processing what I see. The students milling about seem older and more artistic than my McKinley peers. In a place like this, my fashion choices certainly would not be ridiculed. Eagerly, my feet carry me towards the dorm rooms. I try to take notice of every thing around me; since the Incident, I have been determined to keep my memory in check. I get lost and only need to check my map once before making it to Talge Hall, the female dorm.

As I push open the doors, the sweet smell of jessamine hits me along with the swell of music and laughter. Girls run down the stairs and hallways as my feet carry me up to my room. The dorm is full of life and art as drawings and paintings aren't limited to our doors. Like children, the girls have drawn onto the walls with paint and crayons and the floor with chalk. It should look barbaric, but the merging of such different elements have me so transfixed that I nearly walk right into a door. I catch myself a few inches before my head meets the mahogony frame covered with stickers and look up at the room number: 306. My room!

My key has been turned into a part of my necklace to prevent me from losing it, so now I free it from its place and open the door. The room is bigger that I believed it to be, and one side of it - which I assume to be mine - lay completely bare as if an imaginary line divided the room. On the other side of the line is a whole world of things, chaos that seems to have a form of ridigity to it, as if everything is in its place. My roomate has band posters up on her wall and defaced editions of popular magazine tacked on as well. My roomate herself sits at a desk chair in front of a Mac, but now turns to look at me. She has pale skin, jet black hair binded in long dreadlocks, a nose stud, and bright blue eyes. She's wearing a dark blue shirt and black skinny jeans, and her feet are bare.

"No shoes in the room," she begins when she notices my gaze on her feet "and you must be Rachel." She rises and strides over to me, holding out her hand as a smile appears on her face. "I'm Lindsay."

I let go of my suitcase to shake her hand, replicating her smile. "You're correct about that, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Lindsay." We let go and she looks at me with a weird expression on her face, and I wait for the "Why do you talk so funny?" question that every new stranger gives me. But she doesn't say anything except, "Need any help?"

Already, Lindsay has exceeded my expectations, which fills me with hope that this school will be nothing like McKinley. I will have no cheerleaders to fear or ice cold death traps to dodge. With this new sense of hope I take off my shoes and lay my suitcase flat. The rest of my belongings will be waiting for me in the front office which Lindsay would be delighted to show me. But for now, I bond with my roomate while emptying the first of my baggage.

Later, when everything is put away and the sky is beginning to darken, Lindsay turns to me.

"Hey, Rachel, how would you like to go on an official tour of New York?" she asked, an actual twinkle coming to her baby blues. "We'll do everything before the sun comes up."

I put down the shirt in my hands amongst the many clothes on my bed and turn to face her. "You want to hang out with me?"

"Don't act so surprised." She tells me, laughing. "You seem cool, and I want to give you the full college experience."

I look down at my outfit, trying to calm my excitement. How weird would it look if I semed eager to get out there with her?

"You know what?" I say, picking up my head. "That sounds pretty damn awesome."

••• Quinn •••

You'd be surprised how much you could learn in a year or so.

When she deemed my "mental state" stable enough, Raven moved me from the basement up into her room. I have been there for about five months now, and it has not been easy for me to fall asleep. I fill my waking hours with books. I am not particular, though I do find myself bringing home fiction that takes place in the 19th century. This is the furthest that most authors will plunge, and it surprises me how accurately they can describe the era from the fashion to the dialogue.

Now, the others are at breakfast and I am finishing the last page of Circle of Fire, the last book in a trilogy by the name of Prophecy of the Sisters by a woman named Michelle Zink.

It is the last page that I feel the most.

"Whatever else I may come to understand in this world, Alice will always be a beautiful mystery. It is one I am content not to solve. I can love her now in all her lovely darkness. Alice was my sister. And we were not so different after all."

It cannot be said that I didn't try. After Raven permitted me to live above ground, I expected it was because she had believed that I had ample time to forget about... That it was time to move on from the past. She had wanted me for centuries, never giving up even in times where either of us could have perished. I truly attempted to see her in a new light, as someone who sacrificed everything for the one she loved. But underneath that layer of undying love and devotion lies an evil so horrible that it's nearly impossible to stomach. Amalia was only able to love Alice after she died, and girls always end up with the hero of the movie.

The fraction of Raven's cult that is made up of my friends try to help me. Each day they try to recall some good deed she preformed for them and tell it in a way that does make her seem like a hero. But upon comparing their praise to the girl that shares a bed with me at night, none of it makes sense.

Raven's lovely darkness is a pretense that buries the deeper evil inside her. I have become her prisoner again, but things are much different than they were when I was human. She doesn't abuse me or make moves I'm not ready for. I have finally stopped tensing up when she kisses me, but it is impossible to replicate the passion felt in those tender touches. She strokes my hair and knows all my vulnerable spots, but I simply cannot bring myself to be really happy with her.

As long as I know what she is capable of, I can never truly love her.

••• Serena •••

Let it be put on record that I hate Quinn.

I mean, like, even if Mother can forgive her, I sure as hell won't. Quinn can't do anything to me, so I test out my theories on her. I've been a vampire for a little over whole year now, and she has been my subject dummy for as much. I'm glad we heal quickly, because if my experiments left scars, Mother would definitely take notice and be upset with me.

Quinn takes it in silence, which pisses me off even more. She knows to expect me when Mother isn't home and remains quiet jo matter what. She only makes sounds afterwards, sobbing when she is alone. I would pity her if I didn't despise her so fuckin' much.

Ari and I have grown close now. She walked in on me once drinking from a refridgerated blood packet and took the news surprisingly well. Considering how she was the one who had encouraged me to take the leap, I was surprised it took her this long to figure me out. In order to change, you would have to die with vampire blood in your system. Point blank - I committed suicide. But I knew I would come back, so I'm not sure if it even counted. I took a few pills and fell asleep in a drawn bath, drowning myself. When I emerged from my reverse baptism, my jaw hurt and everything felt different. Once Ari found out, she convinced me to torture Quinn. It didn't take much convincing, to be honest.

"Let's do something fun." she says to me now, sitting across from me as I play the new Assassin's Creed in my room. My black electric guitar is in her lap as she quietly strums a few chords She's been adopted into the family as seamlessly as I was, and we have that whole sibling vibe going on. She hasn't tried to get with me - or anyone, for that matter. Maybe she's one of those asexual types.

"I'm having a lot of fun where I am." I tell her, my eyes never leaving the television screen.

With my peripheral vision I notice her put down the guitar and make her way over to me. She leans across me to pause the game on my controller, smiling up at me. "Watching you play video games isn't fun." She says with a slight smirk.

With a sigh, I put down my controller and fold my legs, looking over to her. "What do you want to do?" I ask. She smirks at me as if she had been waiting for me to say that all night.

"If I retreat

Words, wars, and symphonies

Make room we're taking over here

So the gallanting

Cold and alone, it suits you well

You won't find me perching here again

May your feet serve you well

And the rest be sent to Hell

Where they always have belonged

Cold hearts, colder songs

They will play us out

With a song of pure romance

Stomp your feet and clap your hands

Let's kill tonight!

Kill tonight!

Show them all you're not the ordinary type

Let's kill tonight!

Kill tonight!

Show them all you're not the ordinary type

Let's kill tonight!

May your feet serve you well

And the rest be sent to Hell

Where they always have belonged

Cold hearts, colder songs

They will play us out

With a song of pure romance

Stomp your feet and clap your hands

Let's kill tonight!

Kill tonight!

Show them all you're not the ordinary type

Let's kill tonight!

Kill tonight!

Show them all you're not the ordinary type

Let's kill tonight!

Kill tonight!

Show them all you're not the ordinary type

Let's kill tonight!

Kill tonight!

Show them all you're not the ordinary type

Let's kill tonight!"

A/N: The song was Let's Kill Tonight by Panic at The Disco.

So should I stick to Quinn/Rachel's point of view? Should Raven be involved? And if you request a song, I could form a chapter around it. Feel free to review.


	3. Paralysed

_A/N: I am so so sorry for the wait. I was "grounded" for something rather stupid. Before that, my musical and my music video kept me pretty busy. But I had already written this chapter, just never posted it. So, here goes._

**_A/N: Absence makes the heart grow fonder. But what will I do with my life now that Gossip Girl is over? I find it ironic that Glee did "All That Jazz" and my film class is doing a parody of Chicago._**

**Chapter 2: Paralyser**

• Rachel •

New York - what a place!  
I have only been a part of it for several hours, but the city itself is alive with a constant hum that reverbrates through every being which ambles its streets. At first I was cautious to follow Lindsay around - we had just met, after all - but the girl truly knew her stuff. Releasing my inhibitions, I gleefully allowed her to show me her world. She was a born-and-bred New Yorker, and had friends in high places.

The first place she brought me to was a club. At first I was hesitant to enter, what with the large bouncer at the door. But Lindsay noticed my reluctance straightaway and yelled words of encouragement over the thumping bass that spilled out into the street. "I just met you, and I know how crazy this is," she began, earnestly focusing those blue orbs on me. "but this is actually a karaoke bar. Fights happen once in a blue moon." I looked over her shoulder at the bar. Aside from the crowd desperately hoping to get in, the club wouldn't seem to be a karaoke bar, or anything worthwhile. The facade was nondescript; the building was built by bricks, the doors seemed wood paneled and the entire thing was painted grey. The windows were sealed shut and also painted grey. The building was at the end of a street and spanned several square feet. It could have been a post-modern barn and would certainly not catch the eye of the average tourist.

"That's a long line." I said, focusing back on her. "Can't we go somewhere with a smaller one?"

Lindsay just laughed and grabbed me by my arm, leading me towards the front of the line. Ignoring the cries of the over-dressed huddled mass, she waved at the intimidating bouncer. "Hey, Damien. This is my friend, Rachel." She introdced. "Damien" smiled, an emotion much different from his former mask of stone-cold armour.  
"Welcome back, kid." Damien replied with a not-so-suprising hoarse voice. The quality of it belonged to someone who smoked quite a lot. He stepped back and waved the way toward the entrance. "Knock 'em dead."

Knock 'em dead? Was Lindsay a singer, like me? I barely had time to process the thought, because the inside of the karaoke bar was a lot different than its exterior. Walking inside, I was transported into the Austin Powers meets Amy Lee dimension. Someone onstage was singing The Virgins' "Rich Girls", which gave the bar more of that that old school vibe. It was nearly impossible to take in, and twice as hard to explain. Although there were psychedelic colours on the walls, the dim lighting and contrast with the furniture brought on the dark appeal of the place. It shouldn't have worked in the slightest, but somehow, it did.

Lindsay led me over to the black marble tabletop counter and grinned, gauging my reaction. "I know, you're wondering how this could ever work as well as it does, right?" she asked. Unable to form words, seeing as how my jaw was currently brushing against the floor in shock, I could only nod. She hopped onto the table, knocking over a glass of something. "I come here just for a stroke to the old ego. I designed the place."

Brow furrowed in confusion, I tilted my head. But before I could ask, she answered with a laugh. "This place is a family operated thing. It's my father's bar, and Damien's my cousin. I, being the insanely fabulous visionary that I am, told my father exactly how to decorate it and what to do with it - karaoke in the open, actual bar in the back." I looked around once more, noticing again how well everything melded together. Virgins' singer was descending the stage while another performer took his place. Behind where we were, there were rows of dimly lit booths with patrons occupying them in ways I needn't have seen, and beyond that, rooms with "Do Not Disturb" signs on the doorknobs.

"I can tell by your incoherent mumblings that you're impressed." She laughed. "Brains and beauty, you know? But I've got much more talent." Without warning, Lindsay jumped down from the countertop, the chains on her black boots swaying as she walked up to the stage. She tapped the performer on her shoulder, smiled, and exchanged a few words. The girl - she looked extremely young; did they card here? - appeared relieved as she climbed down from the stage. Lindsay pressed a few buttons and grabbed the mic as the first few chords of the selected song came out.

"I hold on so nervously  
To me and my drink  
I wish it was cooling me  
But so far, has not been good  
It's been shitty  
And I feel awkward, as I should  
This club has got to be  
The most pretentious thing  
Since I thought you and me  
Well I am imagining  
A dark lit place  
Or your place or my place

Well I'm not paralyzed  
But, I seem to be struck by you  
I want to make you move  
Because you're standing still  
If your body matches  
What your eyes can do  
You'll probably move right through  
Me on my way to you

I hold out for one more drink  
Before I think  
I'm looking too desperately  
But so far has not been fun  
I should just stay home  
If one thing really means one  
This club will hopefully  
Be closed in three weeks  
That would be cool with me  
Well I'm still imagining  
A dark lit place  
Or your place or my place

Well, I'm not paralyzed  
But, I seem to be struck by you  
I want to make you move  
Because you're standing still  
If your body matches  
What your eyes can do  
You'll probably move right through  
Me on my way to you

Well, I'm not paralyzed  
But, I seem to be struck by you  
I want to make you move  
Because you're standing still  
If your body matches  
What your eyes can do  
You'll probably move right through  
Me on my way to you

I'm not paralyzed  
But, I seem to be struck by you  
I want to make you move  
Because you're standing still  
If your body matches  
What your eyes can do  
You'll probably move right through  
Me on my way to you

You'll probably move right through  
Me on my way to you

You'll probably move right through  
Me on my way to you"

Lindsay made the song her own, jumping around the stage and dancing wildly. The whole time she had a great smile on her face and looked like she was having the time of her life. Before the song ended completely, the entire bar, myself included, was giving her a standing ovation. Whether they knew who she was or not, they were definitely an enthused audience. I was a sucker for a good voice, and even with a song like "Paralyser", her obvious talent had shined through.

She made her way over to me, giddy from the response she had gotten. "So, what did you think?" Her eyes gleamed with anticipation as if she had done this to impress me and truly valued my opinion.

I smiled in return, giving her a tight hug. "You were amazing! Is singing what you're at NYADA for?" I asked when I pulled away.

"Do you want anything to drink before we go to one more destination spot?" She asked me, raising her hand to signal the bartender. I shook my head; I'd been uncomfortable with the thought of drinking ever since I heard the news of Finn's accident. Depression threatens to overwhelm my mind, but I head it off by being enthused at Lindsay's new place.

"Where are we going?" I asked her, bouncing with energy in my seat.

She winked and grabbed my hand again, leading me out through the door. Excitement coursed through my veins as we ran and she hailed a cab. I had a feeling my night was only beginning.

• Quinn •

When dinner time rolls around, I'm not permitted to venture outside without at least two guards. It's amuses me that Raven believes that I will try to escape. There's nothing out there in the world for me to run to now.

And yet, while I hunt, there are two of her appointed guards at my side the entire time. Puck is one of them. Occasionally, I have the strongest urge to punch him in the face. Or in his crotch. He always manages to find a way to whisper lewd comments in my ear as I hunt or have his hands "accidentally" touch me. As I stated before, if I could, I'd clock him.

But I'm still on lockdown. I'm not allowed to harm any of the faction of Raven's crew that are loyal to her. I can't even participate in lessons and practice fights. My predatory nature has been stripped down, reduced to a mere memory only permitted to surface during a hunt.

Several slayings later, the three of us make our way back to the house. The other guard - who's name I've never bothered to remember - opens the door for me and I turn my brightest and most insincere smile at him. Immediately I am hit with the sounds of laughter and general celebration.

Music erupts from speakers and coloured lights attack the ceiling. The vampires are either socializing or sitting in corners with humans on their laps. It sounded and smelled like a blood bar in here. Leave it to Raven to do this.

"Baby, there you are." Speak of the devil. Raven appears by my side and kisses me, and I patiently count to ten inside my head while I wait for her to finish. When she pulls away, she stagger back like she's drunk.

"What's going on?" I ask, confused. Everyone is doing something - or someone - and no one's holding back.

"We're celebrating death, my love!" She exclaims, holding up a cup that smelled of blood and vodka. Typical. "Being superior To the humans, having no limits, you name it! Being dead truly gave us life."

Pardon me if I didn't feel like partying. Sadly for me, my second chance at life had been taken away.


End file.
